Rich or poor in life, have this in common:
all turn to dust.
For the grave is the destiny of men
and die we must.
No one lives forever, that is the truth
that's firmly set
Wealth, fame, and health we cannot take with us
when we meet Death.
The proud are silenced and soon forgotten,
embraced by earth.
The good repaid with the joy of heaven's
eternal worth.
A man's life is like mist that's here today.
In death he is dust that winds blow away.
Copyright © Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~03.12.19
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem, Cynthia. Read my poem Love and L u s t. Thanks.
Thank uoi Jazib Kamalvi